


and my shoes took me down a crooked path

by TheGodWith5Yen



Series: the blood stuck beneath his fingernails [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Angst, Child Murder, Family, Friendship/Love, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jason Todd Has Issues, Male-Female Friendship, Memories, Stuffed Toys, Talking To Dead People, that already happened but it's mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 07:10:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20524013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGodWith5Yen/pseuds/TheGodWith5Yen
Summary: The water began to recede as he sifted closer towards the child. Black curls that tiny hands tugged at. Missing front teeth. Scabs on her knees. The sick scent of garbage and feces that was all too familiar to his senses. Hands that shook. Tears and hair plastered on her cheeks. Fingers raw and nails filled with blood as she clawed and screamed and-Jason breathed through his mouth as he dropped to his knees, in front of her, watching as her mouth opened and closed, suddenly unsure now that she finally had the attention she had cried for who knows how long for. This little girl, a child who couldn’t be more than eight, could have died weeks before this moment or before Jason was even born. In the time since he discovered this ability of his, Jason had spoken to quite a few haughty and pompous characters who had died back before a telephone was even a thought.The voice was high pitched and scratchy, desperate and weeping. A shiver ran down Jason’s spine.(sequel to 'should have just held my tongue')





	and my shoes took me down a crooked path

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING- mentions and allusions to past rape of a child  
……..
> 
> A lot of people seemed to like the first part I wrote, so here's another paranormal Jason. It sounds like a lot, but it's honestly kind of lighter than the tags and warnings make it seem. Also I made a playlist! Idk how to link insert links properly so here's the whole link lmao 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4Vcpx2d1yszct17eL64vTu

Her hand brushed at his cheeks, pushed back at his growing hair. He had meant to cut it, but the days passed by and by and by and before he knew it two weeks had passed and his hair was a floppy, curly mess. Jason shifted slightly, so that the warmth of Sunflower’s body- so alive and radiating heat that Jason’s own could no longer retain- could seep into his back. He closed his eyes, enjoying the simple moment. The only sounds was a ticking clock behind them from Sunflower’s tiny kitchen and their unsteady breathing, their hearts beating clearing out of sync. With his ear pressed against Sunflower’s bare thigh, he could hear the rush of blood inside her body. 

Wasn’t it odd? The body? How it held so much blood, how resilient it could be, how fragile. Jason knew how to slowly kill someone, how to kill a person so fast they weren’t even aware what had even happened to them. 

Sunflower made a soft shushing sound, like a mother attempting to calm her infant child from their whining cries. Perceptive. Sunflower always seemed to know what came into his mind. A paranoid part of Jason wondered if she was a meta, if this was all a ploy, but it was quickly shut down as he thought of her. No, she was just an odd woman. A perfect friend for Jason considering his own oddities. Plus it wasn’t like Jason had an abundance of them- friends. He wasn’t like Dick, who could open his asshole mouth and still have a whole group of people think he was the bees knees. He had tried to have friends, but it never seemed to work out for him. Jason thought of photos, back in his Robin days, where he looked sullen and awkward with the Teen Titans. Even if his memory wasn’t well, he could  _ feel _ that no one had actually wanted him there. 

If Jason was completely honest with himself- which he rarely liked to be- he would admit that he was quite a bit like Bruce. A little shut off. Compulsive in a way. Paranoid. Was it possible to inherit mental illness from a man that was not his blood father? Jason snorted- fuck would the psychologists have a field day with them and all their issues. 

Sunflower leaned down slowly, her blonde hair caressing softly at his skin with the movement of her slow breathing. Her breath was warm and pleasant as it landed on his cheek. Jason leaned a little towards her lips. Her mouth moved in a whisper, a near silent prayer to her gods. Jason idly listened as he raised a hand and wrapped a lock of her hair around one of his large fingers. He could feel as blood seeped from the bandage that had been hastily wrapped around his thigh, dripping into his pants and down his leg in a slow descent. 

He breathed. 

The mouth was tiny, a baby, a child, and it broke Jason’s heart the second he laid eyes on it. Children never deserved to die, they never deserved the way they were treated, never given a chance or a glimpse of love and support. Jason stepped forward through the river of tears that pushed back at him, the tears wanting him to acknowledge the soul it had come from, away from this little crying mouth of a dead child, but Jason pushed forward through it, despite the way his jeans clung to his legs and the shouts from the desperate dead. That wasn’t real, not really, not completely. And it sure as fuck didn’t matter when a child was crying out for him. No other ghost or soul or whatever the fuck these people were mattered when she was calling out for him to hear her.

The water began to recede as he sifted closer towards the child. Black curls that tiny hands tugged at. Missing front teeth. Scabs on her knees. The sick scent of garbage and feces that was all too familiar to his senses. Hands that shook. Tears and hair plastered on her cheeks. Fingers raw and nails filled with blood as she clawed and screamed and- 

Jason breathed through his mouth as he dropped to his knees, in front of her, watching as her mouth opened and closed, suddenly unsure now that she finally had the attention she had cried for who knows how long for. This little girl, a child who couldn’t be more than eight, could have died weeks before this moment or before Jason was even born. In the time since he discovered this ability of his, Jason had spoken to quite a few haughty and pompous characters who had died back before a telephone was even a thought. 

The voice was high pitched and scratchy, desperate and weeping. A shiver ran down Jason’s spine. “Please… please… please. I- I don’t want. Find Pajarita, please find- find Pajarita. She- she- she must be so scared and cold and! She must miss me! Please! Please keep her safe! You can, right? Ri- right?” Her little hands, smaller than the palm of his hand, reached out for him, grasping at his much larger hands. “ _ Please. _ Pajarita?” She had a little lisp. Jason squeezed her hands.

“What’s your name sweetie? So I can tell Pajarita? So I can help?” He held on tight to her hands, unwilling to let go in fear that he would wake up and never meet her again, that he would leave without giving her the satisfaction of knowing that someone in the world of the living was  _ trying _ for her. After everything that had been done to her, this was what she deserved. “What’s your name?”

“Reyna Garcia. And you- you’re Jason, right?” She sniffed. A flash of light up sneakers caught his eye. Bright pink and yellow and blue that momentarily shone against the lake of tears behind them. His breath caught in his throat as he watched the colors slowly die off. He nodded his head. “They say that you can help us. That you know what it’s like to die.” A rosary shined- red and glittery- around her neck. Jason’s hand raised up to clutch at the pendant around his own neck. 

“Not this.” He choked out. 

If there was anything he remembered about death, it was the before and the after. The hits that made his fingers twitch for hold, the fight for breath as he dug his way out of the ground. He couldn’t fathom living among these tears, to call out to a literal void, wishing someone, anyone could hear him. What made him so special? Nobody else had ever come back from the dead, not without the use of a machine or a Lazarus Pit. Was this something Jason had held inside himself even before his death, a tiny passage into the realm of the dead, that couldn’t be unlocked until he himself entered? Jason shook his head. He didn’t care for thinking about all this shit. It hurt his head and his heart. Instead, Jason reassured Reyna that he would help her, he held her hands until the world around them shattered and Jason was blinking his eyes, staring at the pale pink walls of Sunflower’s living room. 

Music lightly carried out from a closed door- the front door. Probably the kids who liked to loiter in the stairway, maybe a neighbor having a late get together. Pale light from street lights washed into the room from the window. It looked peaceful. Jason sat up and glanced around the room. Sunflower had an impressive collection of figurines on nearly every surface she could put them; little cats and dogs, fairies that looked out with soulful dark eyes, unicorns and elephants, cherubs, even large clunky ones that held music boxes inside them. It was like she was an old eccentric woman, all she needed was to have a few cats lying around.

Necklaces and bracelets hung from some of the figurines. Lipstick and small containers of makeup and glitter laid around on the coffee table. Jason sat up, shifting his head slightly left and right as he watched the glitter shift color. Silver, blue, pink, red, silver, pink, silver, purple. He couldn’t help but think about the colors of the light up shoes, bright and mesmerizing. Blue and red and blue and red. 

His hand reached forward, slowly unscrewing the cap of glitter. It was soft in between his fingers, pliable, easily sticking to him as he raised his middle and index finger up, close to his face, lightly touching the side of his nose as he examined the shifting myriad of colors. Jason’s fingers moved without thought, roughly moving down the side of his right nostril, over his cheek, down underneath his lips, falling to his chin. He could feel as the glitter strayed from his fingers, leaving a sheen trail on his face. 

A tear fell down his clean left cheek. 

He had felt, momentarily felt, what had been done to that child. Reyna’s hurt mixed in with his own memories as he sat there, tears silently escaping his eyes, fingers spreading glitter around his arms and stomach and neck. Hands that overtook him and bruised his waist. Hot breath on the back of his neck. Cries that would never be heard by someone who cared. Small hands that pushed and fought and fought and fought to no avail. Which was his own, which was her? They were both so distant, so out of reach that Jason didn’t know, but he wished that he didn’t remember that touch, that unmistakable _ hurt _ , no matter who it belonged to. He wished that Reyna could forget it. 

If he found Pajarita would she be free of what shackled her down in the river of tears? Of the chains that kept them close to the world they once inhabited? Jason didn’t know enough about hell, had declined the offer to contact Constantine, and wasn’t sure what exactly he was in touch with. Was it a state of limbo? That’s what it seemed to be, considering the souls that cried out to him. Reyna, a child gone before her time who wanted her friend to be safe. Martha, who wanted her son to be assured and that he can live his life happily. Others he had seen in the months since he had first met Martha. 

It must have been reaching morning when Sunflower stepped out in front of Jason, a small smile on her face as she reached over and grabbed his right hand. She slowly let Jason’s fingers rub around and around and around her pale cheeks, creating a mess of sparkles on them both. Sunflower held out her other hand and Jason complied, letting her clutch both of his. Her words were whispered, but clear in the silent morning around them. 

“Aphrodite, my love, my heart, my god, watch over Jason as he endeavors on his new quest sent from the underworld. Please give him the love he needs to pass the struggles he will encounter while discovering the truths of the departed soul. May Hades give the soul a place of understanding and care, away from the cruelty of others. May my offerings please you and allow you to keep our hero of justice on his path.” Her eyes were closed and the glitter on her cheeks, bright circles like a glamorous clown or a child spread it on her, seemed terribly out of place with the sincerity she displayed. Sunflower opened her eyes and looked down at Jason, her lips trembling. “I don’t know what it could be that holds you down, what you saw, but keep your chin up. Let the sun shine on you- glitter and all. I hope you are able to help them.”

Unable to open his mouth and speak, his throat clogged with emotion, Jason simply nodded his head, stood up, and walked out of her apartment as she hurried to place her offerings in her altar to Aphrodite. As he walked through the waking streets of Gotham, he could feel the stares of people who huddled close to the alleyways, their gaze piercing with a curiosity that made Jason’s lips twist into a wicked snarl. 

His mind wandered, to Reyna. 

He was never able to actually  _ see _ a dead person, just impressions they made, slight details about them that made themselves  _ real _ . Maybe it was because she was so young, maybe it was because she had curly black hair, but she had reminded him of his niece and all he could think of was Mar’i. She would never be hurt in a way like that- not with the protective, obsessively paranoid family she happened to be born into- but the thought still lingered in his mind as he walked. Deciding to fuck it, Jason flagged down a taxi. 

The taxi driver smelled like cigarettes, it penetrated into the seats and the stale air. “You mind if I smoke in here man?” Jason asked as his hand reached for his pack of cigarettes, deep in his jeans pockets. The man held up his hand and Jason laughed, “Alright man, that’s part of my payment I guess.” They smoked and drove on in silence from that point on. 

The city passed by quickly, from dim gray and brown, to the edge of the city, bright green with trees and shrubbery. Wayne Manor had held this beauty to it- ancient and nothing like the crumbling buildings inside of the city. Small moments washed over Jason- his hands clasping at shears as he cut at branches, Alfred’s hand on the square of his back as he guided him forward, his bare feet walking through the plush green grass, the ash of a cigarette falling on his new designer jeans as he stared up at the stars above. Jason shook his head slightly with a frown. Those memories weren’t him anymore. The manor was different, happier than what the Jason of now could remember, but it wasn’t  _ his _ . No matter how welcome everyone told him he was, no matter how Dick insisted, how Alfred insisted, it could never be the same as the foggy memories he tried his best to hold onto. 

As the car stopped, Jason plucked out the money owed from his wallet with a nod of thanks and a cigarette rolled up between two bills. The man gave Jason a grin, “Thanks, kid. Have a good one, yeah?” He placed the cigarette between his lips. 

Jason gave him a salute with a shit-eating grin on his face. “You too man. Drive safe.” He watched as the taxi drove off, seconds after, he heard as footsteps, soft and fast, approached from the side of the manor. Jason glanced over his shoulder to see little Mar’i, yellow dress bright against her dark black skin and her curls falling unruly out of her pigtails, over her cheeks, with Alfred and Stephanie close behind her. Stephanie had pink and purple heart shaped stickers on her cheeks, her smile bright as she waved at Jason with the arm not linked with Alfred’s. He waved warily back. 

“Hey Mar’i, how’re you?” Jason asked as the little girl threw her arms around his knees, her shining green eyes gazing up at him like two little stars.

“Shiny, Uncle Jay is shiny. Are you a star?” She asked him as she stuck one of her tiny hands inside of her mouth, grinning widely at him. It wasn’t anything important, but Jason was struck by how extremely  _ tiny _ her little baby teeth were, how everything about Mar’i was tiny. 

Jason opened up his mouth and cocked his head to the side. The asshole part of him he could never quite shake off wanted to say something that made her back away from him, (because why did he of all people deserve the love of this precious little girl?), but instead he pushed that thought away and just shrugged his shoulders as he leaned down to grab her and hold her in his arms. Her hair tickled at his cheeks. In that second, he was so happy that nothing, nobody, had ever hurt her soul and spirit. That she was a smiling child with a loving family that gave her all that she ever needed. “No. I’m a moon,” He said through a small smile.

Mar’i laughed, loud and clear in the quiet yard of Wayne Manor. 

His steps echoed as he stepped down into the cave. He could hear talking, voices low, laughter. Apparently everyone was here at the moment. It was the weekend, something Jason rarely kept track of, but fuck did he wish he did since he was now walking into a room with his father- who he hadn't exchanged more than one liners with since the last time he had stepped foot in this house- and full of siblings he didn’t know all too well. Jason dug his hands in his pockets, fingers clenching around his phone and squashing his pack of cigarettes. Shit. Fuck. Shit. 

Behind him, Stephanie continued to talk excitedly, mentioning something about doing Jason’s makeup that he distractedly hummed along to as he suddenly felt the weight of having to interact with  _ people _ . Worse than people, really.  _ Family _ . It made his chest ache. He cared for them, even if he could only swing by on holidays to share a cigarette with Dick in the garden for his own quiet reprieve and eat Alfred’s cookies before dipping out and reappearing late at night after patrol and whenever most of them at school. Suddenly, he was aware of what a fucking mess he was- hair a little too long, a little sweaty from waking up and rushing over, a new unlit cigarette dangling between his lips, wearing rumpled clothes he had slept in along with a mustard yellow sweatshirt that fit a tad too well that he had swiped from Sunflower, with fucking glitter spread all over himself from the manic energy he had awoken with. 

Once Jason and Stephanie finished their long descent down the stairs, all conversation stopped as they glanced up at them. Dick opened his mouth, his head tilted to the side as he studied Jason. He had to know. He had to. He knew Jason the best besides Bruce, he had been there when Jason’s mind had fucked off and made his body have a field day with chocolate. Despite the realization dawning in his eyes, Jason’s replacement was the first one to find voice and speak. 

“What’d you do to him Stephie?” Tim’s thin eyebrows scrunched together, his blue eyes curious and wide as they cruised over Jason’s glitter filled face. Suddenly, ridiculously, self conscious Jason scowled at him, a snarl that couldn’t seem like much, considering, escaping his lips. There was something about Tim that always grated on his nerves, this kid that grew up from day one in a mansion and with everything on his fingertips. Even if Jason couldn’t quite recollect his life, of living on the streets, of a birth father who wasn’t what a father should be, he was still aware enough. Maybe it didn’t help the kids case in Jason’s mind that he had replaced Jason, that Bruce loved him more than he had ever cared for Jason. These festering lies told to him, whispered in his ear by someone ill-intended. 

Stephanie’s hands patted Jason’s shoulder blades as she moved past him to sit on Cassandra’s lap, who circled her arms around Stephanie's thick waist with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes as she stared Jason down. Yeesh, a guy murders some asshole criminals for a few years and gets the death stare from the morally righteous. Yikes. “He came here like this, I had nothing to do with it! I swear! Ask Alfred and Mar’i, they saw him too!” She even raised her hands up into the air and waved them about to show that nothing sparkled from them. “Why the dramatic look Jason? I mean, it  _ works _ , but it never crossed my mind that this was something you were into.”

Jason opened his mouth, ready to retort, when he glanced at Dick, whose lips were pressed together tightly and his eyes conveying- 

They kept it a secret. 

They didn’t tell the others anything whatsoever about that night, about what Jason had gone through, speaking to Martha, breaking down in the early morning while they all slept well and tight in their bed covers. He shook his head and shrugged. “Anyone here know anything about Reyna Garcia? She’s eight, nine, maybe ten? Lived on the streets, not quite Crime Alley, I don’t think. She-” He glanced over at Bruce, who had stood up when Jason had came into view, his hands clutched together in front of him, a sad frown on his face. He always frowned. In his memories, Jason knew he smiled, but now, he always frowned whenever he saw Jason. Jason’s arms tingled as he ripped his gaze away from his father and back towards the group. “She came to me last night, asking for a favor. I thought you guys might know something.”

“Is this like-” Dick struggled to form anything else, his lips moving, his hand coming up to gesture. It was hard to get Dick like this, he usually had a good way with his words- even if most of it was some dumb joke that had peoples ears turning red with anger. To see him stuck, unsure, it had Jason want to smile, it made Jason want to be mean. 

However, for once in this life, Jason took pity on him. This was Dick’s way of trying to be a little discreet with Jason’s personal life. After having so much about himself out there for this whole family that hasn’t quite his to be privy to, it was nice that Jason could have a little bit of privacy. “Yeah Dick, it’s like with Martha. The whole talking to the dead thing’s still going on. So, does anyone know or should I start rifling through the computer myself?” 

“She died a year ago.” Damian piped up as he began to walk over to the large computer, a frown on his face. “It was brutal. Horrible what had been done to her. She was only a week away from her ninth birthday. I caught her the man who-” his face contorted in a mix of despair and fury that Jason had never saw on his little brother’s face, but immediately caught onto. 

Jason nodded in understanding. “A fucking monster.” He choked out with a growl as he thought of the little girl. This had been a year ago. Where they any of them when Reyna had been suffering? Why couldn’t they keep them all safe? Why was Jason so fucking useless? His fists clenched at his sides. “Reyna, she wanted me to find Pajarita. Does that sound familiar?”

“Pajarita- the Spanish word for bird? She wants to find a bird?” Dick asked with a frown as they watched Damian bring up files. Dick placed on hand on Bruce’s shoulder, who had sat back down, his shoulders hunched, close to his ears. His black hair was edged with grey near his ears. When did that happen? “Pajarita.”

“It could have been a friend, maybe. Some kid living there too? Street kids get weird nicknames all the time.” Duke piped up as he stood and wrapped his arms around Bruce’s neck. Jason glanced away back towards Damian, hating the flash of memories running in his mind when he saw Duke hugging Bruce. Large hands over his own as his fingers grasped at rough fabric. Bruce’s smile, shining like a bright moon on a cloudy night. Jason biting at the back of Bruce’s neck as he clung tightly to his shoulders in a makeshift piggyback ride. He didn’t want to remember that. 

They all stood up and gathered together at the computer, examining the file that Damian had pulled up. Jason had pushed Damian aside after a minute, scrolling through the photos from the crime scene. His stomach turned at the photos of Reyna, dead and bloody, her mouth open in a silent scream, her dark eyes wide and full of horrors. Her black hair was matted with thick blood. Jason ignored his instinct to scream, to shut down and let his unbearable rage control him, and continued to look at the photos. That’s when he saw it- a stuffed bird, green and red and yellow, its color dull with dirt, its wing partially in Reyna Garcia’s limp hand. 

“Pajarita.” Jason breathed out. “Dad, can you set up a meeting with the Commissioner?” 

A swirl of colorful glitter drained down the sink as Jason’s hands scrubbed at his face. The water was cool, dripping down his chin towards his bare chest, where glitter still persisted, making itself a home in his chest hair and in between the crevasses of long ugly scars. Jason grabbed a towel and roughly wiped at his chest and face. He could hear, outside the door, as Stephanie argued loudly with Tim about what kind of Pokemon was best, her voice cracking with the octaves she was reaching.

How could they be so calm after what they had looked at earlier? Jason was never meant for this world, not really, not even when Bruce picked him up from the streets, thinking he could help him. Jason was too  _ angry _ . He knew he had been before too, could feel that not all of the fury that burned inside of his chest was new hurt. It was something that festered inside of him, that grew each time he was reminded how unjust this fucking world was. Jason should have stayed dead, he wished he stayed dead, he hated all of this, he hated the turmoil and the place he resided inside of it all. 

Dead bodies, of children, of minorities, of people who didn’t deserve the card this society dealt them, only served as fodder for the rage welling up in his gut. It stayed within him. Made him  _ need  _ to fight. Uneasy. Meanwhile, his siblings were chatting it up like it was no fucking big deal, like all was done since Reyna’s killer- rapist- was in fucking prison paying his dues until he was inevitably let out because that’s what happens to someone that just kills and rapes when they’re a white man, it’s nothing compared to a man of color who steals to provide. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck he was so fucking angry he was so fucking angry he wanted he wanted he wanted to-

A knock on the door. 

“What?” Jason’s voice rasped out. Fuck.

“Think I can come in Jay?” Dick’s voice was quiet, expecting to be turned away. For a second, Jason wanted to. Fuck him, fuck  _ them _ . Why did  _ he  _ have to be the one that catered to everyone's sensibilities? Why did he have to be accommodating and nice and  _ trying his fucking best _ when everyone else just laughed behind their hands and did whatever the fuck they wanted? Before he could say anything, the vindictive part of Jason dwindled down and he sighed as he pressed his bare back against the cold sink. Why couldn’t he be normal? Why couldn’t he spend one day without having a mental breakdown? If it wasn’t thing it was another and he couldn’t stand it, he couldn’t stand himself. “Jason?” 

“Come in.” Jason managed to choke out. “Come in.” 

The door opened and Dick quickly stepped inside, his back pressed against the closed door. His older brother was silent as he stood there, looking at up Jason with a calm face and sad eyes. He had a necklace on, glittering sharply around his neck, a gold locket shaped like a heart. Jason wondered what picture was there, Koriand’r and Mar’i, his parents maybe, no defiantly Mar’i, probably a gift the little girl had bought with Koriand’r. Dick opened his mouth and glanced at Jason’s right ear, at the earring he wore, instead of Jason’s face. 

“I- I sort of assumed you were going to come to me with-  _ this _ .” Dick waved his hand towards the sink, towards Jason. “You- you aren’t just barreling into this all alone, right? Because I know you Jay, I know you. You have a tough front, but you’ve always been this kid that  _ hurts  _ on the inside and I know that this is fucking hurting you. All of this.”

Jason blinked. He hated when Dick did this.  _ Knew _ him when Jason could hardly remember a thing about Dick before he came back. Just snippets of a life that didn’t feel real to him. Jason didn’t even know who the fuck he was. He wished there was something, anything, to help give him a picture of the happy little boy he saw in pictures. “Why can’t I be like them, laughing without a fucking care after seeing-” Jason groaned out of frustration, wanting to hit at something, but only ran his hands through his hair and  _ pulled  _ to feel something for once. His scalp burned.

A hand, burning with heat compared to dead cold skin, pressed against his cheek. “Jay, they hate this as much as you and me. Duke fumes over this stuff. They just- they don’t let it build up and up until they’re over shadowed. They know how horrible it is, beat themselves up for not getting to things quicker, but they live and joke because otherwise it’ll bring this whole darkness into their lives and this cave that will stay with them, always, and with Bruce. Jay, hey. Look at me. They’re Bruce’s shining light. And I have Kory and Mar’i and the Titans. You- you just need to find your own light, your own star that keeps the dark shit from building up inside of you.” 

A star. 

Jason glanced at his brother through the room’s flickering yellow light that cast shadows on his face. Watched as his sincere eyes gazed up into Jason’s. 

A star. 

He closed his eyes. Thought of bright colored coats and makeup that kept him mesmerized. Of a soft smile, silly and happy, whenever he stepped into view. Of her soft hands moving through his hair as she whispered kind words to him. The way her nose scrunched up and the smile lines of her face made him want to smile, just a little. He thought about sitting next to her, smoking, listening to her ramble on and on about one of her interests. Sunflower could be his star. She knew who he was, knew what weighed him down, yet she treated him as nothing more and nothing less than Jason. As someone deserving. In these past months of knowing Sunflower, Jason could admit, internally, that Sunflower may be his best friend. Maybe ever, considering everything. 

A few minutes passed in silence as Jason proceeded to clean himself off and shove his shirt back on. “I guess I fucking thought- you have a wife and a daughter. You have friends who go to you with their shit and the kids are always looking to you for some sort of help,” Jason gestured towards the wall, where they could hear the quiet murmurs of the others. “I didn’t want to fucking take up more time then I already had.”

“Oh Jay. You’re so stupid.” Dick said with a laugh, wet and quiet, as he held his hand up. Jason let him reach up and brush his hair back from his face. Some locks were still wet, and stuck in place where Dick set them. It was a familiar touch, but not one Jason knew from this life, but from before. A part of him wondered if he would slowly remember more about himself, more than flashes of memory. If everything would fall into place and he’d  _ know _ . “My life’s busy, yeah. But I’ll make time for you too. I know I’ve been a pretty shitty brother to you, that I should have paid more attention to you and helped you find friends with that Titans.”

Jason was silent for a second as he glanced over Dick’s earnest face. Fuck, they never made anything easy on him did they? Jason sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, well, you’re a dick, we all know that.” Dick only laughed in response as he elbowed Jason’s arm. “I’m still  _ so  _ fucking angry. At- the world.”

Dick hummed in thought. His hand came back down to his side, his fingers shimmering slightly with a few pieces of glitter that hadn't been able to wash away from Jason’s face. “Me too” was all he said before he turned and left the room, leaving Jason to himself for a few more minutes, in the flickering light. 

Jason fiddled with his helmet, turning it over and over in his hands as they waited for the Commissioner to step out. The lightbulb next to the battered looking door was slowly dimming, the light low enough that no moth stopped by to bask in its artificial rays, leaving them in a darkness that Jason could see relatively well through. Bruce was a heater next to him, radiating warmth and nervous, awkward energy. It made Jason’s lips twitch with a smile he couldn’t quite fight back. Jason settled his helmet on his knee and turned towards his father, who tensed up and acted as though he  _ wasn’t _ waiting for Jason to say something, anything. 

“I don’t remember much of my life. I- I can remember your smile. And how you would brush my hair out of my eyes. How Alfred’s cookies smelled, how I’d get batter all over my hands. But- important shit? It’s gone. Like that little boy never happened.” Jason breathed out, his chest felt lighter, like it was easier to breathe to have this out there in the open instead of a festering open wound inside of him. “I hate that you know shit about me that I don’t even know.”

Bruce was silent, his gaze locked on the still door across from where they sat. Jason watched how his fingers moved, like he wanted to move them over towards Jason. He didn’t. “The first time you called me dad, to my face and not as a joke to the Titans or the press, I was cleaning a scrape you had on your shoulder.” His right hand moved over his chest and rubbed at his left shoulder blade. “You had fell down the stairs at your school’s stadium. You were embarrassed, because you had been talking to a- in your words- ‘absolute beauty of a boy’ who you had a crush on since you began at Gotham Academy. You would wax poetry about him whenever you had a chance.” 

Jason opened his mouth and a laugh escaped his lips. “Are you dad storying me right now? Really?” His helmet fell off his knee. After a moment, Jason placed his right cheek on where his helmet had been, squishing it painfully hard against his knee as he stared at Bruce, a small smile on his face and those ridiculous bat ears of his making Jason want to pull on them. Instead, he listened to the memory, given to him not from the crevasses of his mind, but from someone who knew firsthand. It was refreshing, even if he couldn’t quite picture this with  _ himself _ . 

Who even was Jason Todd anyways? A dead boy? A laughing kid that told jokes and got under people's skin with his words and attitude and general being? A teenager who couldn’t think straight, who could only scream into his thighs as he wanted wanted wanted to escape from the life he had been given again? A man who had no clue about anything whatsoever? Who was he besides a series of mental breakdowns contained in one shell of a body? 

Bruce continued to speak and Jason listened, breaking away from his reverie. “You were pouting and sulking. Said- ‘damn I can’t believe I did that, can you believe me dad, I’m a mess!’ I don’t think you even realized it, but I always catch whenever you kids call me dad. It struck me. Made me feel like I was doing right by you. After I finished, I held out my arms and you hugged me so tight. Like this was the end of the world for you, that hugging me helped everything. We were close. Really close.” His voice broke and for a second, Jason worried that Bruce was about to cry. 

That sure would be something.

A loud squeal of the metal door opening caught Jason’s attention. It had been a while since he had last seen Commissioner Gordon face-to-face. His hair was decidedly grayer and his eyebags were dark and heavy. Despite it, he gave them a tight smile that seemed as genuine as it was tired as he trudged through the door with a large box of evidence in his hands. His moustache was, oddly enough, something that Jason could remember clearly even from his life before death.

“Batman. Hood.” Gordon nodded his head, his dark eyes gleaming in a way that told Jason the man knew exactly who they were. Jason raised his hand in a sloppy salute that had Gordon huffing out a breath of laughter. “I normally don’t do this, but considering this case is long over… here. Batman said this was something for you.” He held out the box towards Jason. 

It was like he couldn’t move. Suddenly Jason felt stuck in placed, glued down by a fear curling up from his stomach. He wondered if there was a box like that somewhere, in some precinct, with items that were once a part of his past. Logically, that didn’t make any fucking sense, his death had been covered up and forgotten and there had been nothing of that kid Jason Todd to be put in preservation in a neat little box in between hundreds of others, but the feeling bubbled deep inside his stomach and he was standing there, stupid, with his hand half raised up. 

His father took pity on him and grabbed the box. Gently, he placed it next to Jason. 

Slowly, Jason breathed out and reached over. The cardboard cover fell to the ground with a gentle push, skidding across the roof until it hit Gordon’s boot. Jason paid it no mind as he reached inside. At the very top was Pajarita. It was a plush doll of a parrot, red, yellow, and green with a black beak stained long ago with dried blood. Without much thought, Jason let his body move. He was there, but he wasn’t, as he unzipped the bag and pulled the little toy in his hands. 

It fit perfectly in his large palm.

“You don’t have to be scared anymore.” He whispered as he gently the plush animal to his chest, his lips brushing Pajarita’s head. “You don’t have to live in the dark, you don’t have to be scared anymore.”

Jason placed Pajarita carefully on top of the pile of clothes he had dropped into the washing machine. There had been no protest when he had stood up and left his father and the Commissioner with the bird in his hands. Reyna had asked him to find her precious friend, to keep her safe, and Jason intended to keep that promise.

He might be a fucking mess who can’t take care of himself, but even he was sure he could go along with Reyna’s final wish and keep a stuffed animal safe. And- 

Maybe, to someone else, it would sound meaningless. But Jason understood why Reyna cared so much about this little stuffed animal. This was a piece of normalcy in her otherwise terrifying life. Maybe her mother, her grandmother, an aunt, gave it to her before she had no family left whatsoever and was left to fend for herself in the back alleys where other children hid like rats between walls and dumpsters and adults watched with deranged eyes as they tried to survive in their own way as well. This little bird was all Reyna had. Her best friend. Jason was sure, deep down despite the fact that the specifics evaded him, that he had had his very own Pajarita that he cared for. 

When the load of laundry was done washing and drying, Jason placed Pajarita on his bed, next to his pillow- which was sad looking with a limp space where his head usually rested on it, that’s what he gets for being a cheap ass with that kind of shit- as he began to fold his clothes, talking in a low voice, out loud to Pajarita, to Reyna. It wasn’t anything important, anything anyone would care for, just simple talk. 

It made his skin tingle, his chest feel a little  _ more _ . Jason found himself chuckling as he glanced over to Pajarita, the bird staring at him with empty black beads-as-eyes that seemed to gleam with a happiness from the light of his ceiling fan up above. Jason breathed out. Suddenly, he knew, he knew that Reyna knew. It was like he could feel her, watching. Not from above or inside him or nearby, but he  _ knew _ . 

Somewhere, Reyna was leaving the restless, tear-ridden limbo that so many souls stayed confined in. She had found a peace. Jason closed his eyes, letting that tranquility wash over him, bone deep and reinvigorating. The pressure on his chest felt lighter, his heart could beat a little studier, a rush of something glittery ran throughout his bones. Jason could have sworn he felt  _ warm _ , truly, actually fucking warm for the first time since he had woken up six feet under. The laugh that left his lips was near hysterical. 

Jason leaned forward to press his face against his mattress. His muscles strained with the awkward position, but he continued to laugh and laugh and laugh in a jubilant mania for sweet little Reyna, for her ability to pass on, to let go of this troubling fucking land of the living. Each breath felt like- like when you chew mint gum and your sinuses is cleared and breathing in felt like it was the very first time, clean and new. 

_ You don’t have to be scared anymore _ the world seemed to say, without a word, to his soul.  _ You don’t have to be scared anymore _ .

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this is good??? Please tell me your thoughts, come talk to me on tumblr @dykekoriandrs, check out some of my other fics, etc, etc. Oh!!! the title of this fic comes from 'Worried Shoes' by Karen O and the Kids, which is a song on the playlist I made!


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